


Inspiration

by trialanderror12



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Writing & Publishing, Authors, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3350867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trialanderror12/pseuds/trialanderror12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki is a famous author on a writing binge. He is very stressed, and Thor helps him relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigynthefaithful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigynthefaithful/gifts).



> This is literally what you people have done to me… If only I had a Thor to come make it all better. ;)

Loki’s fingers are stiff and cramped and cold, but he’s far beyond noticing. His hand flies across the paper, scribbling down unintelligible lines that only he will later be able to decipher. (Well, hopefully anyway. Thor still hasn’t let him live down that one time he’d woken him in the night in a desperate scramble for pen and paper in the nightstand, kept the light on for two hours of furious scribbling, declared his magnum opus complete, and promptly fallen back asleep. The next morning he hadn’t been able to read a word of it, and worse, he couldn’t even remember what it had been about. That was one night of sleep Thor hadn’t minded losing, not for all the ammunition he’d had against Loki afterward. Of course, Loki had other ways to keep him happily up all night… Not that he thought he’d get a chance anytime soon, what with all his characters practically _screaming_ inside his head, banging their fists on his skull and demanding he _write them, write them now…_ )

Loki has been at this for hours, working long into the night, and the clamoring inside his head doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. He knows many would call this a blessing—and he’s glad to have apparently overcome the last few weeks of writers’ block, really he is. But he’s also mind-numbingly tired. His body is running on fumes; the adrenaline rush of finally, _finally_ taking pen to paper again has long since worn off, and it’s through sheer force of will that he keeps going. So many stories are fighting for space in his head, so many characters dragging him this way and that—Melissa’s at the lighthouse, will she find it or won’t she… Rick is about to solve his father’s murder, and Loki can’t _believe_ who the killer has really been, all along… And somewhere in the back of his mind, fighting its way toward the forefront but getting lost now and again in the cacophony, he’s pretty sure he actually has an idea for a new book in the series that started it all, which fans have been begging for for years now even though Loki’s always thought it well and truly finished.

He hears the steps coming up behind him but doesn’t really notice until Thor’s big warm hands come up to rest on his shoulders.

“Writing,” he says distractedly, unable to afford even a moment to enjoy the sensation. He feels like he’s in the middle of a tumultuous ocean with only a small bucket to drain the water, and if he stops the flow _even for a minute_ he’ll drown and lose everything.

Thor is wonderful, and kind, and patient. He stands behind Loki for half an hour, running his hands steadily back and forth across his shoulders. Not so light as to tickle, but not hard enough that Loki has to pay attention to it, either. He’s just _there_ , a solid, welcome presence, and damn it all because even half an hour later Loki is _still_ writing furiously, no signs of stopping, and now he has to spare at least a little attention because Thor is just too damn perfect and Loki really, really doesn’t think he’s going to have time for anything tonight.

“Y’should go to bed,” he mumbles, taking advantage of the brief writing reprieve as he tosses an empty pen across the room and grabs another. “‘m gonna be a while.”

Thor’s only response is to knead his shoulders harder, and okay, now he’s really paying attention. He hadn’t realized his muscles were anything close to that sore. 

But now that Thor’s really getting in there he realizes it fucking _hurts_ , and Thor’s getting out some of the more painful knots but the stress and tension of hours and hours hunched over in the same position has made his entire body ache. He groans and leans back into Thor’s touch, the flurry of pen movements stopping for the moment, and Thor digs in deeper.

Loki sighs and lets his arms go limp, closing his eyes and surrendering to the unstoppable force that is Thor once he’s put his mind to something. Apparently his current goal is to reduce Loki to little more than a puddle of extremely happy jello, but as long as he keeps doing _that_ Loki doesn’t think he can bring himself to care.

Thor’s hands move up to his neck now, thumbs rubbing slow circles on the tense skin, and Loki let’s out a small breath of relief. It feels wonderful, and Loki doesn’t ever want it to stop.

So of course that’s when Thor lets go, bending forward to snatch the pen out of Loki’s loose grip. He starts massaging Loki’s writing hand, gently easing the tension from each pulled-taut finger, and Loki _moans_ at how good that feels. Human beings _probably_ weren’t built to write so much in one sitting. Probably.

“Come to bed,” Thor tells him as his hands return to his shoulders, the pressure lighter now, more soothing than anything. Loki wants to, but he’s pretty sure he’s gonna fall asleep right here in about five seconds instead.

“Too tired t’night,” he manages, and under the circumstances he’s pretty impressed he managed something even closely resembling intelligible.

Characters from five separate stories are still screaming in his head, demanding to be written even as his body _knows_ it’s just done. The voices are silenced (for now) when Thor drops a tender kiss on his forehead and chuckles. “Just sleep,” he says, and oh, that sounds heavenly. He’s still not sure he can get up, though…

“Are you gonna walk or do you want me to carry you?” And yes, yes, Loki _definitely_ wants to be carried. He stretches his arms out blindly and Thor laughs as he pulls them into a position where Loki can wrap his arms around his neck. He holds him around the waist with one arm and slips the other under his knees, and Loki presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek before leaning his head to the right and snuggling contentedly into Thor’s neck. This is nice.

Thor tries to get him in bed but Loki refuses to let go, tightening his grip on Thor and burrowing deeper into that space above his collarbone that just seems to be _made_ for Loki to fit there. Perhaps realizing Loki is too far gone to be cooperative—it’s really not on purpose, this time, honest—Thor just holds him closer and settles onto the bed himself, pulling Loki down with him. 

Loki curls up obediently on his chest, perfectly willing to take that hint, and presses his ear to Thor’s chest. His heartbeat is calm and soothing, and Loki relaxes into the rhythm of it as he allows himself to drift off to sleep. Maybe his next book will be about a writer. A writer with the most amazing boyfriend, who loves him and puts up with him and takes care of him and—

Loki’s eyes flutter shut. Sleep.


End file.
